


Composition

by coffeewordangel



Series: College AU [1]
Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-03-16 14:00:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13637718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeewordangel/pseuds/coffeewordangel
Summary: Bob is Ray's roommate.





	Composition

It’s Friday and the dorms are mostly quiet. Everyone is out having fun because there’s an entire weekend between now and Monday. Everyone except Ray, that is. He’s taking advantage of the quiet because he’s going to finish this essay for History of European Music if it kills him. And it just might. Especially since he also has that Composition and Theory assignment to finish before Monday on top of sundry other non-major related assignments. 

He lets his head drop to the desk with a thud. It seems he’s past the point where caffeine is helpful and onto the stage where it just makes him jittery and restless. So, naturally, he jumps like hell when the door to his room opens.

It’s Bob. Bob the ninja roommate, who slides in and out like he’s not even there. They’ve been rooming together since the beginning of the year and Ray can count on one hand the amount of times they’ve talked. It’s a little like rooming with a ghost. A hot ghost, with amazing eyes and an ass meant for obsessing over.

Yeah, it’s probably a good thing that Bob isn’t around all that much because Ray has a rather embarrassing thing for him. It’s Bob’s own fault though; if he weren’t so mysterious all the time he probably wouldn’t be so attractive. Probably.

“It’s Friday,” Bob comments, raising an eyebrow.

Ray frowns. “Yes?”

“And you’re studying. Again. Do you ever go out?”

Great, Bob thinks he’s some nerdy loser who does nothing but study. Although, that’s not exactly far from the truth. Ray’s uncomfortable with people he doesn’t know all that well and he’s never been one for clubs or bars. It’s not that he never goes out, but given a choice he’d rather just stay in. It’s easier.

“Sometimes,” Ray replies defensively.

Bob laughs. _Laughs_. “Easy there. I’m not passing judgment, it’s just that you seem like you’re wound a little tight. Maybe you should leave it till tomorrow.”

“And do what, exactly, instead?”

“I don’t know. I’m running sound for this band tonight. You wanna come with?” 

It’s not exactly ‘let me fuck you over the computer desk’ because this isn’t a porn, but Bob is offering, however casually, to hang out with Ray. This is the most interaction he’s had with the other man and he’s not about to miss an opportunity to spend the night surreptitiously ogling Bob in his element. Plus, music, which is kind of a nice bonus.

The club ends up being predominately gay, which he did not see coming even a little bit, and Ray feels all sorts of out of place. The boys here are lean and predatory, and there’s enough eyeliner and hair gel in the place to fill an entire cosmetics counter. They shimmer under the lights and twine together in sinuous rhythm. His mouth goes dry and he hurries a little to keep up with Bob, who is moving through the crowd like water. 

“I think I’m a little underdressed,” Ray states uncomfortably once they‘re behind the small space that serves as a stage.

Bob slowly runs his eyes over Ray’s frame and smirks. “What you’re wearing is fine.”

Ray shivers and is glad that Bob has turned back to the equipment. It gives him a chance to watch Bob’s capable hands dance over cables. His knees go a little weak when Bob shifts one of the amps, the muscles in his forearms straining nicely against the skin. He’s got it bad and he’s wondering if this was a good idea; he still has to share a very small dorm room with this guy later on.

Ray’s unadulterated lusting is interrupted by a flurry of black-clad limbs launching at Bob’s back. Jealousy burns hot at the back of Ray’s throat; bitter and unwelcome. This boy is beautiful, the kind that is too attractive for its own good, too pretty to be anything but trouble. He seems excessively familiar with Bob, if the wandering hands are any indication.

“Get off me, fucker,” Bob growls playfully. “You’re heavier than you think you are.”

“Oh come on, Bobby, you know I’d be happy to get you off,” the boy purrs before laughing and sliding off Bob’s back.

“Leave Bob alone, Frank,” a bemused voice orders from behind Ray’s shoulder. “He has work to do.”

Ray turns and eyes the owner of the voice. Almost as pretty as Frank, with artfully disheveled black hair and pale smooth skin. “Um, hi?” Ray croaks, feeling even more out of place than before, if possible.

“Hi, I’m Gerard, the patient and amazingly long-suffering boyfriend of that idiot over there.”

Frank snorts. “Patient, my ass. What about last night when…”

Bob claps a hand over Frank’s mouth. “We don’t want to hear it.”

“I’m Ray,” Ray introduces himself and tries not to shift nervously.

Gerard cocks an eyebrow. “Bob’s roommate Ray?”

“Uh, yes?”

“You know, if your boyfriend wants to play rockstar at some point tonight I’m going to need to finish this,” Bob interrupts impatiently.

Gerard smiles secretively and nods. “Come on, boys, let’s leave Bob to his work. You know how cranky he gets when people watch his ass while he’s playing with the cables.”

Bob flushes and glares at his friends. “Assholes,” he mutters.

Ray isn’t sure he’s entirely understanding the exchange. He doesn’t have a whole lot of time to mull it over, though, before he’s being dragged to the bar by Frank the whirlwind and Gerard the flamboyant. He orders a drink and tries to ignore the conversation they seem to be having without exchanging any words at all. He thinks it’s about him and that makes him really uncomfortable.

“So, Ray, what do you do?” Gerard asks, propping his hand on his chin.

“I’m a Music Major,” Ray replies and hopes desperately that Gerard doesn’t ask what he plans on using such a major for. He hasn’t exactly figured that out himself and hates the question with a burning passion.

“Ah. I’m an Art Major,” Gerard replies. “Don’t your parents hate it?”

Ray rolls his eyes. “They wanted me to major in Business. I’m a constant disappointment.”

Gerard grins and the bonding begins. Before he knows it, Ray is sharing what feels like his entire life story with a complete stranger. It’s strange and kind of wonderful all at the same time. They exchange numbers and Ray thinks he might actually get around to calling him to hang out. He _likes_ Gerard. Gerard is fairly easy to like. Frank, on the other hand, is made of evil. He’s sly and sarcastic and can pull a choir boy expression at will. Against his better instincts, Ray sort of adores him. 

“Isn’t your band looking for you, yet?” Gerard asks Frank after they‘ve been talking for a while.

Frank shrugs. “Lazy assholes are probably hoping I got lost so they don’t have to play.”

“So, lot of love in your band, huh?” Ray asks.

“They’re good guys, they just don’t take this seriously. This is like an extracurricular activity for them.” Frank frowns and then immediately replaces it with a smile. “Guess I’d better go kick their asses back in line.”

Gerard rolls his eyes. “You go do that. Strike the fear of God into their hearts.”

“Hey,” Frank protests. “I’m intimidating!”

“Oh yes, you inspire us all, sweetheart,” Gerard replies. “Just go!”

Frank glowers at him for a moment and then stomps his way toward the back of the club. Gerard watches him go with a dopey, lovestruck grin and Ray can’t find it in himself to make fun of the other man for it. He’s not sure he gets their relationship but it’s obvious that they’re stupid in love with each other. It’s kind of sweet, in a nauseating sort of way.

“Let’s get you back to Bob,” Gerard announces, hopping off his stool and giving Ray an expectant look.

Ray just follows because it’s easier than asking questions. His head is still spinning a little from the alcohol and the lights and the heat. Bob’s lounging against a wall when they find him, eyes half-closed, fingers drumming the beat of the song against his thigh. 

“Bob!” Gerard calls over the music. “I’m returning Ray. Whole and unmolested.”

Bob raises an eyebrow. “In the company of you and Frank? I hardly believe that.”

“Well, he blushes so nicely when you grope him,” Gerard explains apologetically. “We couldn’t resist.”

Ray tries his damnedest to fight the flush creeping up his neck. He isn’t used to this, is unaccustomed to being open about anything, least of all his sexuality. It isn’t that he hides it, but he figures it’s no one’s business. Maybe Bob was right; maybe he is wound a little too tight. The problem is, he’s not sure how to loosen up.

“Last time I let _you_ watch him,” Bob says dryly.

Ray frowns. “I’m not a puppy.”

Bob just grins slowly, suggestively, and warmth pools in the pit of Ray’s stomach. “Of course not. I’m sure you can take care of yourself.”

Then the moment is gone, if it was ever there to begin with, and Ray leans up against the wall next to Bob and fights a disappointed sigh. Gerard seems to have melted back into the crowd, possibly to gain a better view of the stage. They stand for a moment, watching Frank scream at the audience. Bob’s hand slides over to rest against the small of Ray’s back and he leans in, presumably to be heard over the music.

“Are you having a good time?” he asks, facial hair sending electric shocks over Ray’s skin.

“I like your friends,” Ray replies stupidly.

“My friends are likeable,” Bob agrees noncommittally. 

Ray turns his head minutely and he’s millimeters away from Bob’s mouth. He licks his lips and tries not to go cross-eyed from staring. “I am, though,” he says hoarsely. “Enjoying myself, I mean. Thank you.”

The corners of Bob’s lips quirk. “You’re so fucking polite,” he murmurs, sliding his palm over Ray’s jaw and slanting his lips over Ray’s mouth in a warm kiss.

Ray’s heart stops and his spine tingles low at the base. Bob’s beard scrapes against Ray’s cheek and he tilts Ray’s head just a little to deepen the kiss. Ray clutches at his shoulders, warm through the worn cotton of his shirt, and groans a little at the back of his throat. Ray immediately winces, self-conscious. He’s too needy, it’s been too long, and he’s going to scare Bob off before anything even happens.

Bob laughs into Ray’s mouth and pulls away slightly. “Did you want to stay for the rest of the show or should we head back to the dorm?”

“Dorm please,” Ray decides breathily. 

“Are you always this polite?” Bob asks slyly. “Always say please? I bet it wouldn’t take much to have you begging.”

Ray bites back a moan. He’s playing out the scene in his head; a million different scenarios involving Bob’s mouth and his hands and his cock, making Ray plead for more. It’s too much, with the heat swirling around them, and all Ray wants to do is get back to the dorm and behind a locked door. He kisses Bob again, harder and less refined.

“Let’s go,” he orders, desire roughening his voice. “You can find out.”

\---

It’s a wonder they manage to make it back to the dorm at all since Bob keeps pinning Ray up against the nearest flat surface and kissing him like he’s trying to make sure Ray still tastes the same, hasn’t changed in the last five minutes. By the time they stumble into their room, tangled limbs and half-loosed clothing, Ray is flushed and panting and dizzy with need. Bob could ask anything of him and he’d readily agree.

True to his word, Bob teases. He takes his time, draws pleas from Ray’s lips, reduces him to a quivering mass of nerves. Ray’s entire focus has narrowed to how much he wants Bob inside him, fucking him. Bob has to know that because he keeps teasingly slipping a finger into Ray and back out.

“Fuck me,” Ray pleads, arching in what he hopes is an appealing manner.

Bob bends and scrapes his teeth over the nape of Ray’s neck. “And what do you say?”

“Please,” Ray snarls. “Do it.”

Bob chuckles against his skin and god help him if that doesn’t liquefy his fucking spine. Follow that with Bob _finally_ sliding into him and Ray’s half afraid his skin might melt off his bones. It’s not a feeling he’s accustomed to. Ray’s always felt a bit of detachment during sex; it’s never been bad but it’s always seemed like so much work, so technical. This is different. He’s fucking _writhing_ for god’s sake.

Bob’s thrusts become shorter, a tad more erratic, and he reaches around to curl his hand around Ray’s cock. Ray closes his eyes and focuses on the near-overload of stimuli. He shudders and comes against Bob’s palm. When Bob collapses onto him he’s made very aware of how small the bed really is. It’s hard to catch his breath, even harder when Bob flips him over and cleans any errant come from Ray’s skin with his tongue.

Ray twitches and laughs shakily. “You.”

Bob’s grin is self-satisfied and a little dirty. He dips his head to kiss Ray, deep and sloppy. “Wanna go again?” he pants.

Ray’s beginning to breathe normally again. With a little more making out and Bob grinding down like he is now, that doesn’t sound like a bad idea. “Sure. Why not,” he replies happily.

“I want you to fuck me,” Bob murmurs against his neck. “Like this.” He rolls his hips in graphic demonstration. 

Ray bites back a whimper and hopes he can keep up.

\---

The first thing Ray notices upon waking is that he’s alone in the tiny bed. There’s not enough room for Bob not to be all tangled up with him and he’s very much absent. So Ray rubs his eyes and looks around. He’s alone and he tries desperately not to be disappointed. He’s not sure what he was hoping for; it was just sex. Amazing sex, but just sex.

Still, this has the potential to be really awkward. It’s way too late in the year to be requesting a room change. He would have to give a _really_ good excuse and he doesn’t think ‘I fucked my roommate and now it’s all weird’ is going to cut it. Maybe they can work out a schedule for studying so they don’t have to be in the room at the same time. Bob’s not around all that much anyway.

Ray’s still in the middle of his worst case scenario plans when the door opens and Bob walks in juggling two cups of coffee and a paper pastry bag. He kicks the door shut behind him and sets the coffee on their shared desk. He’s deliciously rumpled, hair tousled and eyes still sleepy. Ray squints at him.

“Is that my shirt?”

Bob blushes. Cool, composed Bob. _Blushing_. “Uh, I guess? I just grabbed clothes off the floor. I wanted to get back before you woke up.”

“You almost made it.” Ray tries very hard not to read anything into Bob wearing his shirt. He can’t help the tiny thrill of pleasure it sets coursing through him, though.

“I bought coffee.”

Ray grins. “I can see that. Food too?”

“Yeah. I got you regular coffee, four sugars, no cream and an apple cinnamon muffin.” Bob hands the items over.

Ray stares at him. “How the hell do you know how I take my coffee?”

Bob ducks his head. “I pay attention,” he mutters.

He’s stunned. No one pays that close attention to him. Or, rather, no one ever has before. The fact that Bob’s obviously been taking an interest for a while makes Ray bolder. He carefully sets his coffee aside and slowly walks over to Bob, who looks a little nervous. Ray leans in and kisses Bob hungrily.

“You’re coming back to bed,” Ray orders, tugging Bob backwards toward the bed.

“Am I?” Bob seems amused.

“Mmhmm.” Ray drags Bob back until he’s pressing Ray into the mattress. He slides his hands up under Bob’s shirt, _his_ shirt he supposes, and sucks at Bob’s neck.

“Your coffee’s going to get cold,” Bob cautions.

“’S why God invented microwaves.”

Bob laughs. “To reheat coffee that’s gotten cold during gay sex?”

“Yep.” Ray slides his hands down the back of Bob’s jeans and is delighted to discover he’s foregone underwear.

Bob makes a muffled sort of moan and rocks his hips. “Do you own a suit?”

It’s so non-sequitur that it throws Ray for a moment. He takes a second before deciding to be amused. “Am I boring you, Bryar?”

“No. God, no,” Bob protests. “It’s just. I’ve been meaning to ask you, for a while now. There’s this student art show thing and I guess it’s a big deal and did you want to go with me? Gerard’s making me go and I’d really like you there.”

Ray thinks that’s the longest he’s ever heard Bob speak at one time. “Art show?”

“Or a movie,” Bob replies quickly. “We could go for a bit and cut out early and go to a movie. Or whatever.”

Ray fights to keep from grinning like a moron. He settles for squirming happily beneath Bob’s weight. “Yeah, I’ll go out with you.” Ray smirks and pokes Bob in the side. “You just want to see me in a tie.”

Bob swipes his tongue over Ray’s clavicle. “You’re not wrong.”


End file.
